Zara
There was something about waking up on your birthday that felt… surreal.
Maybe it was the soft shift in energy that hung in the air. Maybe it was the silence before the texts and calls started rolling in. Or maybe it was just the way the sun peeked through the curtains a little brighter than usual, as if it knew.
But today, that glow didn’t reach me.
I rolled onto my side, placing my hand on the curve of my belly, now rounder than ever.
“Happy birthday to me,” I whispered.
I should’ve been happy.
Should’ve been excited about the brunch Julia planned or the friends who’d be arriving later tonight.
Instead, all I felt was that strange emptiness again.
It had started days ago.
Since the rehearsal dinner.
Since… that woman. The toast. The drink.
It didn’t make sense, but I had
